


Sickness of the Mind - Culture Shock

by AllThatNoise



Series: Sickness of the Mind [2]
Category: Left 4 Dead 2, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:22:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThatNoise/pseuds/AllThatNoise
Summary: To be continued





	

I tiredly pull myself out of the cold dark waters onto dry land. Soaked to the bone I quickly shuffle over to the nearest building near the port. I ring my hair and clothes out as soon as I could and shuddered my way to the closet town. I spot a few infected wandering the grounds but I’m not sure if these infected are any different than the ones I’m accustomed to in Louisiana. I reach into my drenched backpack to feel for Jawbreaker; thankfully I didn’t lose it during the swim to shore. Tightening my grip on my trusty weapon I walk closer to a wandering infected woman and tapped her on the shoulder. She turns to me with a glazed look in her eyes but didn’t attack me, well not yet anyway. 

My body involuntarily trembles from the cold, my teeth chattering without my consent as I struggle to say anything. The female zombie snarls a low scratchy voice, “…nooooot…frooooom….aroooound….heeeere…” I gave the woman a nervous smile and was able to ask a coherent sentence. “W-w-where a-am I-I-I?” “…Allhaaaaaallooooows…..” I glance around and notice a large suburban area next to the coast. A tennis court overgrown with weeds and other flora and a filthy unused swimming pool were only a few yards away from me like monuments to the old ways of life. I wipe my runny nose and take hold of the infected arm before she could get away from me. “Allhallows…I never heard of that place. I-Is it in Louisiana, or any state in the US?” The sickly woman points toward a petroleum station nearby and hiss, “cheeeeeeck…maaaaaaaapss….” I mutter a thanks then release the woman to let her wander to her heart’s desire, questionably making my way toward the petroleum station to rest and figure things out. Other infected in the area ignore my presence as I tore through unopened packets of edible food. My self-made habits kick in and I scavenge around filling my empty stomach and nearly empty backpack with any supplies that could help me later. I eventually come across a map of the area, and face palm myself from the sheer disbelief. 

According to the map I was in a suburban town near the coast of Allhallows, Kent, England. England! What the ever loving fuck?! How did I get this far from my original plan! All I wanted was to sail north to Georgia or Virginia so I could look for my sister. Not thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean. I grab a few oversized tourist t-shirts from a rack and slip my wet clothes off my freezing body. Using one t-shirt to dry myself then using the other to wear over my cold sports bra. There are just some things that I can’t ditch and a handy bra is one of them. I slip out of my jeans and yank on a pair of loose sweatpants before slipping my feet into some sneakers. Or should I call them trainers since I’m here. I try to laugh at my stupid joke but only feel my eyes start to water. Dammit! Everything suddenly hit me like a wet sack of rocks, I collapse to the dirty floor and huddled into the tiniest ball I could ever muster. 

I thought the zombie apocalypse was a doozy but suddenly winding up in another country while still trying to survive the damn zombie apocalypse has finally wore me down. My fingers suddenly shoot up to my mouth and I revert back to my childhood. I shut my eyes tightly and plop my thumb into my mouth, trying to relax in anyway. I have no idea where to go from here; I’m in a completely new area with no plan on getting back to the United States. As I bombard my brain with hundreds of doubts and unanswered questions, my eyes finally began to release the flood gates. I could handle the zombies, crazy survivors, and nearly starving, getting hurt multiple times, and I never shed a single tear then. Now, I’m bawling like a small child missing her mother. After what feels like a few hours I get back up to my feet and wipe away the dust from my clothes. I dry my cheeks with the t-shirt collar and put my backpack right where it belongs before leaving the petroleum station. I sniff the cool air and peer down at the map. Skimming the unfamiliar locations and spotting a well-known name that’s not too far away from where I was. London, I’ll head there and figure things out. I’ve always wanted to go there anyway but walking the entire way was going to take a while. Instead of walking, I procure an abandoned bicycle and was on my way.

After riding pass a few towns with one eye on a map and other on the road, my mind has nothing to do but recap my conversation with the last non-infected human being. Unlucky for me that human being was the crazy cruise captain. His words scatter around my head for the longest time. Am I no better than him? He kills survivors and eats them, but me? I might as well have already joined the infected ranks since they talk to me then attack. Maybe I’m a carrier or worse a new special infected? I can remember the sprawled notes in the safe house mentioning how the infection mutates daily, maybe it improved to imitate a non-infected and I’m just the prototype. I know I was stressing myself out but I couldn’t help it. I was getting so worked up that I was developing a nasty migraine. I finally stop at a nearby shop to rest and maybe change out of my current attire. Sweatpants are not ideal to wear for an extended amount of time on a bicycle. The pant legs got caught into the gears no matter how much I roll them up; so a change of clothes would be helpful. I set the bike against the brick wall of a clothes shop and used Jawbreaker to bust the closest window. Cautiously entering the building and proceeding to look around the area. Everything looked ransacked and abandoned for some time, it seems that the infection hit here too. Now I need to find out where here is. 

With no new map of the area, I try to survey as much that I can of the store making sure that everything is clear. Once everything passed my mental inspection I dig into my damp backpack for some pain killers and force some down. I then peel off the oversized tourist t-shirt from my body to slip on some new well fitted clothes. Everything had a decent layer of dust and fallen on the floor but I didn’t care as long that I felt comfortable again. I pull on a grey tank top and a pair of whitewashed jeans with holes intentionally designed in them. Slipping my sneakers off my lower limbs, I find a sweater to cover my chilled and abused appendages. I couldn’t help but massage my toes and sore heels, I needed it. I release a tired sigh before pulling on a new pair of thick socks and a comfortable looking pair of black boots. I barely glance at the nearby mirrors as I changed, I didn’t particularly care about my appearance as much as I used to, and I doubt any girl would after a zombie apocalypse. 

I bend down to pick up my drying backpack to stuff a decent sized jacket into it but stop midway when I spot vibrant red fabric lying on the floor. Forgetting my task I walk over to the cloth and picked it up. I couldn’t resist smiling to myself; it was a lovely red sleeveless cocktail dress that looked like it would come above my knee with a split at the side. I shake the dust off the fabric and move towards a nearby large mirror. I raise the dress up and press it to my body, just imagining what I would look like to wear it. I was so engrossed with the dress that I pushed my hair to the side just a bit to make me look prettier. My smile slowly fade as I run my hands through my hair pushing it out of my eyes and rolled the dress up in my arms before slipping it into my backpack. I guess old habits are hard to break no matter what I say to myself. I know there’s no reason to keep the dress but it’s really for comfort regardless if it would eventually be thrown away for food or med kits. It just helps me feel less crazy than I think I am. I yank my backpack to my shoulders and left the store to restock on supplies. 

I arrive in the outskirts of what I could tell was London, there were a lot of forgotten buildings with broken windows and tagged with graffiti. Crime must have skyrocketed once the infection hit, I just hate looting now. Taking shit that you can’t use is pointless; I’d rather take what I need. I wander the streets but decide to climb to the rooftops to bypass a Boomer and a couple of Tanks.


End file.
